Blood Price
by J S Arnold
Summary: Immortality, the dream of many, but when the price is covered in blood, is it too great?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The line in front of the new nightclub is growing, more and more of my prey are arriving at the soon to be 'blood bath' if all went to plan. I lick my pointed teeth and sigh as Henry hisses, "It's all a bit too easy, I mean, they are queuing up to be _slaughtered_"

Henry's posture stiffens, the line of humans going to their demise grows longer, and the Stupid People are unaware of the impending doom awaiting them inside the dark shadows. I am smiling at my two brothers and sister, tonight is one of those nights where you know you are going to be the only ones going to leave on a high.

Some of the more cautious humans think better of it and go home before we can start to feast on the rest; those humans have to be dealt with before they can express their suspicions to the friends or family or worse. I enjoy killing those people the most, their blood tastes so much sweeter when there is a reason behind the murder.

We follow the lengthy line in front of the door and I smile as we enter. Generally, humans find our smiles irresistible and we use this advantage. We can use our beautiful, but deadly, appearance to talk humans into doing things for us like getting cigarettes and alcohol or even make them jump off cliffs if we are feeling especially cruel.

When we finally arrive, and sit, at the bar inside the club, Henry and I order drinks whilst Edmund, Evander, and Loretta seduce unsuspecting humans into deserted rooms where they can kill and feed off them without attracting too much attention.

I give him a side-glance, Henry is staring at his half-full glass of cheap wine, the red tint in the liquid is making him broody. His teeth, when I see a glimpse of them, are simply _dripping_ with venom; that venom causes immeasurable pain in our victims, it paralyses them then slowly eats away at their vital organs until there is nothing left but a blood-filled corpse. This kind of thing was what I lived for, why I kept up the façade.

Although I look no older than the age, the age I was when Henry turned me into this terrible monster, just sixteen years old, that feeds by murdering others. I am one hundred and ten years old this year and I have not aged physically one bit. Humans may dream of being immortal but, there is nothing more tedious than a life you can never grow out of.

For years after I was _changed_, I still hoped that maybe I would be the one exception to this rule, that I would eventually grow old and die; but after ten years, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a shiny new window and see that my hopes has been ignored.

When I peer into the shiny surface at my own reflection, I see that I have not aged one bit in the century that I have remained the same and that I am still sweet sixteen. In order for this matter not to cause anyone to ask questions, I have to move every couple of years to a new place where no one knows who I am. That is the hardest part of it all, the whole leaving thing, it is hard to have to uproot myself and start new every time I reach an age which I can no longer pass for.

Henry, Edmund, Evander, and Loretta live with me in my small, conveniently dark, apartment; Henry looks old enough to be our dad so no one asks any uncomfortable questions like; 'Where are your parents?' or 'What the hell are you guys doing wondering the streets, _alone_?"

I know how Henry feels about me and what he feels is no longer simple affection for a sister. I love him more than I can love anything, the only thing is stopping me from making my move, and Henry from making his, is Loretta. I know how she feels about him, the lust in her eyes in unnerving. Unfortunately my unique ability makes ignoring their inner passion that much harder.

Saturday night, and we are all heading towards a local club for dinner, Henry was close at my side while Edmund, Evander, and loretta stroll closely behind.

"It's a good night," Henry mused, "we shall not go home hungry, my love." I heard Loretta hiss from the shadows behind where we stood but still I smiled, flashing my crystal white teeth in his direction. He smiled at me and used his slightly coiled finger to play with a ringlet of my thin, black hair, "You have picked the perfect night for feeding, and I must congratulate you, Victoria." I smiled and felt my cheeks burn in the dim light, the pale pink flooding my face.

"You look hungry, my love, here," I held out my bare wrist and ran Henry's nose along its surface. His pupils dilated to more than twice their usual size, I could see clearly that he lusted and desired my blood like a heroin addict needs the drug. He pulled me into his chest and held me there as he bit my neck; my pulse sped up as I began to lose control to what little humanity I had left.

I felt my power weaken and my thirst for death grow; the lust for blood would always be my weakness, and yet it was the poison circulating my body still that gave me grace, beauty and strength.


	2. Chapter 2

It hurts when he bites me, I cannot deny this, but I could condemn it either. It happens whenever we feed like this, we vampires, and the euphoria makes us blind with pleasure. I can hardly think a word aas he bites deeper, taking from me the blood that I had taken from another. I am strong enough, I think.

I am thirsty, but it is nothing that I cannot manage. It is in a hollow ache in my chest - the crunching of ice in my veins. I do not think that it could be anything other than this - it is always the same. It should be nothing but an ache inside my chest, but I feel something different. I feel dizzy.

I think about jumping Loretta, of how her blood would taste bitter, and she turns to me with her beady black eyes. I almost flinch, to recoil out of instinct, but that would be a mistake. Baring my teeth, I snarl, at her and focus instead on the other sensation tugging at my senses.

A darkened figure stands in the silver rays of moon-light with his arms clutching a metallic cross-bow in his hands. He points it at Loretta and smiles, "Got you."

She hisses and her fangs extend, morphing her face from something beautiful into something ugly and terrifying. I heard myself take in the first breath of the evening as he aims the weapon at her chest. I see her flinch and begin to move from the arrow's path, moving faster after consuming all the blood that is available tonight.

But it is too late, she knows this as the bolt pierces her heart. She clutches the piece of metal the protrudes from her chest as if there is any hope of pulling it out. There isn't, it falls with her as she crumples to the ground, her skin and bones already turning to ash beneath her. The sound she makes as her eyes sink into her crumbling skull is a wail.

The hunter chuckles and next aims the weapon at Henry. He barely looks at me, and I cannot look at anything but Henry. His eyes meet mine but I cannot read his thoughts; Vampire hunters have this effect on us, they weaken us like the sunlight. There would be no other way that they could beat us otherwise.

His head lift from my wrist and he turns around the glare into the darkness, his pupils like pin-pricks. I could not mistake the cause of the snarl that ripped through the air like a knife through silk; it was some-thing inhuman and unmistakeably dangerous. He was dangerous, uncomprehendingly, and I cradle my throbbing, bleeding arm.

"Michael." He hisses the name, venom seeping from his mouth like honey - thick and golden. He puts himself in front me, as I we need protecting. It would be laughable if I weren't so afraid.

The man in front of us wore black and his hair was the colour of slick oil. He wore it long and straight down his back, like silk. His skin was tanned and flawless, his eyes as dark as the night around us. The way he appeared, as if out of nowhere, sent thrills of fear down my spine which felt like fire.

"Henry," Michael has matched his tone exactly, "Guess who made the list?"

I felt queasy as I stare into his opaque black eyes of the predator, knowing that I might not live to see a sunset. I close my eyes as he draws the string back and releases.


	3. Chapter 3

My heart stirred, almost beating once, as I stare in shock and disbelief. I cannot look away from the hunter and his weapon. He smiles.

I cannot bring myself to look at anything but his cold, unfeeling, eyes. There is nothing but the sound of an ancient body hitting the floor, and the sound of my heart breaking.

Michael lowers the bow with deliberate slowness. Does he know what I am thinking just by the expression on my face? He knows that if I tried anything he will have to move fast – he will have to be ready.

"Henry…" I whisper, "Love, please, I need you…" the tears I shed were crimson and plentiful.

He laughs but tells me soberly, "Crying will not bring him back." He sounds regretful, but I know his kind knew no feeling at all. _His Kind_ and our kind were the same in one way at least – immortality comes with the curse, and it is a curse in itself.

But even with this, we still live with the threat of death. His body crumbles, turning to dust before my eyes.

"Victoria," he breaths, suddenly seeming exasperated – strange that he should be able to feel anything when he seems so unfeeling. He puts a hand to his forehead, "your wanted alive." And before I could think of how to react his hand came to my neck.

"What?" I hear myself say. The sensuality of his touch sent a shiver down my spine. It is strange that I should feel so conscious of his fingertips brushing my skin and that I should like it.

He holds me tightly as my body weakens; Vampire Hunters have the same seduction techniques as we do. He puts one of his razor-edged nails against the thundering artery by my ear.

"You cannot die." He says as he makes the incision and the world turns black.


	4. Chapter 4

I awake to the sound of someone breathing close by, too close, I can hear it in my ear. I know that it is not mine.

_Henry _– my Henry is... not hear. He is gone. He is dead.

I am alone.

_Damn it_. What would I do without him by my side?

Laughter echoes throughout the room but I do not take my eyes from the solidifying body before me. He is already turning to granite before my very eyes – I wonder how long I have lain here unconscious.

"You know..." the sound of paper rustling, "... I do _not_ have your name on my schedule, but I can always make an exception. I have time."

I can recognise his voice almost instantly. My vampire senses stretch out and pick apart his tone to find his meaning, but I do not need to search far or for long. His intentions are spelt out in his sardonic smile.

"You..." venom fills my mouth like water and I am choking, "Why are you doing this to me?" I can spit at him at least, and the vile black fluid seeps from my mouth. I had left angry behind hours ago; my fangs are seeping with poison and I bare them as fiercely as I can manage.

He recoils slightly from my monstrous form, but otherwise maintains a confident expression. He licks his bottom lip slowly and looks to the ceiling, seemingly exasperated and amused.

"You do not deserve to live, love. None of you do"

I hate him. He ought to die. I hate him. He does not deserve to live.

These words are ringing in my head like sirens, fuelling my hate, feeding my instinct to kill.

Michael was my lover before I become vampire, so many years ago. He had watched me being drained by Henry without remorse. He has become the hunter and I have become the prey.

He does not deserve to live and the monster needs to feed.

I turn just as he motions to drive the stake into my heart and the varnished wood ricochets off the granite hard skin of my arm.

"You don't deserve to live, _love_," I mimic his words, adding a toxic smile to _love_, "None of you do."

My teeth are penetrating his neck before he can scream. His neck broke before he can possibly wonder if I have made a mistake. He fell to the floor and I lick my lips slowly.

_None of you do._

His crossbow feels solid and lethal in my hands as I hold it in front of me. There was no time to wonder if I am making a mistake.


End file.
